


Not That Type Of Boy

by flawedamythyst



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Clint Barton, Disabled Bucky Barnes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Grindr, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Despite what Bucky's mom thinks, casual sex is definitely not a ‘warning sign’ about his ‘mental health’. Still, having her walk in the morning after a hookup to find his Grindr match still there promises the most awkward breakfast ever...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 140
Kudos: 914
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	Not That Type Of Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 'Fake Dating' on Winterhawk Bingo.
> 
> Thanks to Nny for the original idea and beta and CB for the hand-holding.

Bucky’s parents had moved house while Bucky had been in Afghanistan, so he didn’t have any childhood memories associated with their spare room, which was probably for the best. He felt shitty enough about having to live with his parents and rely on them for everything without also being so completely right back where he started.

Plus, it would be even weirder bringing Grindr dates home if it was to his teenage bedroom.

“Ah, fuck,” said the latest one, who had told Bucky his real name when he’d arrived but had remained ‘B1ceps4L1fe’ in Bucky’s head. Because, wow, those biceps. “That was great.”

Bucky had to agree. Grindr hook-ups were kind of a mixed bag, but this one had already gone to the top of the pile. No weirdness about his missing arm, no unexpected freaky kinks, nothing from the guy’s profile had been a blatant lie, and he’d fucked like a goddamn machine once they’d found the right rhythm together. Bucky was still seeing stars.

“Gimme a sec and I’ll get out of your hair,” muttered the guy into the pillow.

“No rush,” said Bucky, reaching out to pat at the guy’s ass, just because it was right there and, Jesus, so nicely muscled. Maybe he should be seeing about doing this with him again.

So far, he’d kept these hook-ups as anonymous as possible, pretty much ghosting the guys once they’d met up. He didn’t need any more complications in his life right now, he just wanted a fuck and then to be done. 

Every Friday evening, his parents went to their Rotary meeting then back to their friends’ house for drinks that always went on later than they seemed to think they would. Bucky had figured out that he could get a guy over, hook up with him and kick him out long before they’d get home, and still have time to clean up after so there weren’t any awkward questions.

Not about the gay thing, obviously, given he’d been pretty out about that since he was fourteen, or even about the sex given that they’d been letting his boyfriends stay over since he was eighteen. No, it was the anonymous hook-ups bit that they wouldn’t be okay with. 

When Bucky had first got back, and it had started to become clear just how messed up that IED had left him, his mom had sat him down with a few leaflets about PTSD and mental health warning signs so they could talk through ‘healthy coping strategies’. It had been excruciating, but it had kinda helped to have the sort of stuff he should be avoiding laid out so they could all keep an eye on it. Drinking, drugs, bottling shit up rather than letting himself feel the tangle of emotions that lashed out at the weirdest times, all that. And, right there on the page next to them all, ‘risky sexual behaviour such as an increase in casual or anonymous sex’.

“Well, we don’t need to worry about that one,” said Mom. “You’ve never been that type of boy.”

Which was a nice thing for his mom to think about him, sure, and maybe he hadn’t been before the Army, but he sure as hell was now. He just didn’t think it was ‘risky’ or a warning sign or anything. He just needed to let off some steam every so often while he was all entangled with getting discharged, and sorting out what benefits he was entitled to, and trying to make a new lifeplan now his Army career was fucked, not to mention the physiotherapy and the therapy-therapy. Getting fucked through the mattress once a week was a great way of dealing with all that stress.

And man, this particular fuck really had dealt with an impressive amount of stress.

B1ceps4L1fe let out a quiet groan, then wriggled around so he could take the condom off. “You got a trash can?” he asked in a mumble.

Bucky just waved vaguely towards the other side of the bed. “Tissues on the nightstand,” he said. “Pass them over?” 

There was the brief fumble of them cleaning themselves up, neither of them having the energy to do more than wipe down with tissues. Bucky crawled under the blankets once he was done, every muscle in his body melting into the mattress. Man, the guy really had fucked every last bit of tension out of him. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since before he’d shipped out for the first time.

“Okay, I’m gonna…” said the guy, but he didn’t even have the energy to finish the sentence.

Bucky snorted and glanced at the clock. “You’ve got at least half an hour before I have to kick you out,” he said. “If you want a cuddle before you go, I’m up for that.”

The guy grinned at him, and it was almost as pretty to look at as his ass. Almost. “Sounds good,” he said, and wriggled under the blankets to curl up against Bucky.

Bucky wrapped an arm around him, because he kinda enjoyed this bit as well, unless the guy was a dick. He breathed out a sigh and let his eyes fall shut because, fuck, he was worn out.

“Just a few minutes,” added the guy in mumble, snuggling so his face was pressed into Bucky’s neck. “Then I’ll be gone.”

“Cool,” said Bucky, stroking a hand over the curve of his biceps, because there was sometimes truth in advertising, and they were giving him life.

“Just a couple of minutes,” repeated the guy with a quiet sigh, and Bucky let his eyes fall shut, just until the guy left, then he’d get up and shower and all that shit.

****

The next thing he was aware of was a gentle tap on the door, and then a voice saying, “Good morning, Bucky, I’ve brought you- Oh.”

Bucky had stopped waking up like he’d heard a gunshot a few weeks ago but something about the tone of Mom’s voice made his eyes fly open and he sat up before he was properly aware of what was happening.

Mom was caught in the doorway, mug in one hand, staring at the shape next to Bucky in the bed.

Oh shit.

The shape that belonged to Bucky’s Grindr hook-up, who had apparently fallen asleep instead of leaving last night, and was now blinking his eyes open, making an unhappy face as he looked up at Bucky.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had a guest,” said Mom, still staring.

“Uh,” Bucky managed. He had no idea where to go from there, because ‘this is some guy I met online for the express purpose of an impersonal fuck’ was not going to go over well.

“Let me get him some coffee as well,” said Mom, finally moving to come further into the room instead of backing away like any sane woman would. She handed Bucky the mug and then smiled down at the confused look on B1ceps4L1fe’s face and, wow, Bucky really wished he could remember the guy’s real name right now. “How do you take it?”

“Uh, black,” said Biceps, sounding just as thrown as Bucky was. “No sugar.”

“No problem, dear,” said Mom, giving him a smile, and then actually winking at Bucky, oh god. “I hope you’re able to stay for breakfast. I know Bucky’s father and I would love to meet the new man in his life.”

“Um,” said Biceps, throwing Bucky a panicked look.

“Give the guy a chance to wake up first, Mom,” said Bucky, because he needed to wake up as well before he worked out what he should do.

“Of course,” she said, smiling at them both and, fuck, she looked relieved as well as happy, she’d clearly taken this as good sign for Bucky’s recovery. Shit, she’d been talking about him making more friends and ‘increasing his circle of support’ just the other day.

As soon as she’d left the room, Bucky groaned. “Fuck.”

“I am so sorry,” said Biceps, sitting up and rubbing at the aids in his ears. Had he slept in those? That couldn’t be comfortable. 

“Oh man, I did not mean to fall asleep.” Biceps looked outside at the sunshine, then reached down to grope his phone out of his pocket. “Shit, my friend’s totally going to think you’re a serial killer,” he said, fumbling with the buttons. “I’m meant to text her when I get home after a hook-up.”

Bucky couldn’t keep in a snort. “Whereas my mom thinks you’re my boyfriend,” he pointed out, and Biceps winced at him as he hit call and put the phone to his ear.

The response was speedy and loud. Bucky could hear a woman shouting down the phone from where he was as Biceps cringed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m fine, I’m completely fine, I swear, I just, uh, I maybe fell asleep a little bit.” The voice on the other end of the line grew strident. “Aw, no, that’s not- Shit, Kate, I’m sorry, I swear I was-” He winced again and Bucky settled back against the pillows to take a sip of coffee, wondering if this conversation was better or worse than the one he’d be having with his mom in a few minutes.

Oh man, she was going to be so disappointed when she found out this guy wasn’t any kind of ‘new man’ in Bucky’s life.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said Biceps. “Yep, totally. No, I- Uhuh. Yes. Okay, fine, pizza it is. Christ, yes, and the beer.” He made a face. “Yeah, yeah, okay, fine, for all of you. Yeah, see you tonight.” He hung up and let out a sigh. “I have to buy pizza and beer for her whole DnD group,” he said, and scrubbed at his face. “Fuck, you would not believe how much garlic bread they can all put away.”

Bucky’s mom came bustling back in before he could reply to that with a second mug of coffee in her hand. “Here you are, dear,” she said, beaming at Biceps as if he were making all her dreams come true.

“That’s very kind of you,” he said, taking it from her and managing his own charming smile, as if this wasn’t the worst possible scenario for the morning after a Grindr date.

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Mom beamed. “Bucky’s father is just making pancakes for us all, but there’s plenty of time, come down when you’re ready.”

“Ah,” started Bucky, but she turned her smile on him before he could start to try and let her down gently.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that you’re seeing someone,” she said. “I’m so pleased for you, honey.”

She patted at his foot, under the covers, beamed at them both again, then left.

“Ah, fuck,” said Bucky, quietly. She was going to be devastated.

“I am so sorry,” said Biceps. “I can’t believe I just fell asleep.” He scrubbed at his face, still only looking half-awake. “Do you want me to shoot off as quickly as possible, or hang around and make small talk so you can wait a couple of days and then tell her it didn’t work out?”

Bucky stared at him. “What?”

Biceps shrugged at him. “I don’t mind either way, kinda feels like this is on me anyway. I can pretend this was more than it was to save you having to explain Grindr to your mom.”

“Oh my god that would save my fucking life,” said Bucky. He hadn’t even considered asking the guy to take that bullet for him. “I mean, don’t feel obligated but it would be awesome. My dad’s pancakes are pretty good, you won’t regret it.”

“No worries,” said Biceps with the same sunny grin.

“That really would be amazing,” said Bucky. “I do not want to explain hook-up culture to my mom, she’s gonna think it’s some kinda cry for help.”

Biceps had his mug cradled in his hands and looked completely at home in Bucky’s bed. “It kinda is,” he said. “A cry for help having an orgasm, broadcast out into the universe via the medium of arty pictures of your abs.”

Bucky snorted. “Put like that, I guess that makes you my hero,” he said, as dryly as he could to hide his sincerity because, seriously, anyone who could fuck Bucky as well as Biceps had last night was definitely some kind of superhero.

“Honoured to be of service,” said Biceps, and he held out his mug so that Bucky could chink his against it.

“And doubly so for putting up with my parents this morning,” said Bucky. “Hey, as a thanks, you’ll have to let me help you out with that pizza and beer. Seems only fair if I give you some money towards it.” Biceps was already starting to shake his head, so Bucky added, “Got to prove to your friend that I’m not a serial killer, after all.”

“You think plying strangers with food and drink will help with that?” asked Biceps. “Okay, I guess Kate will pretty much take pizza from anyone, and her friends definitely will, so you’re probably onto a winner there.”

“Hey,” said Bucky, “my parents are going to be plying you with pancakes soon enough. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Biceps snorted. “I’m gonna end up buried behind the garage, aren’t I?”

Bucky gave him the slowest, most sadistic smile he could manage and was pleased when Biceps laughed instead of getting creeped out.

“Okay, might be best if I have a shower before we go down,” said Biceps. “And maybe borrow a shirt? I’m not sure my hook-up shirt is breakfast-with-parents appropriate, and it’s definitely not what I’d wear for breakfast with a family of serial killers.”

The shirt he’d turned up in last night had been sleeveless and skintight, and Bucky had peeled it off him within five minutes of him turning up.

“Yeah, probably best,” he agreed. “We don’t want to tempt my mom too much with the prospect of skinning you alive.”

As he said it, he suddenly realised that maybe that wasn’t the kind of joke that you made with someone you didn’t know so well, but then Biceps started cracking up, laughter ringing out in a way Bucky definitely wanted to hear again.

“Yeah,” agreed Biceps, stroking a hand over his bare chest. “I guess I do have some pretty nice skin.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to trail his fingers over the same path, admiring the warm bronze of his skin. “It’s definitely tempting having it all on display,” said Bucky. “And not just for creepy serial killer reasons.”

Biceps’s smile turned more lascivious and Bucky had to look back at his coffee, pulling his hand away with reluctance, because if they started something now, they weren’t going to make it downstairs in time for breakfast, and that was going to be an even more horrific conversation with his parents.

He cleared his throat, running through the logistics of pretending to be dating the guy. Most of it they could bullshit, but…

”Hey,” Bucky managed a smile, hoping it looked as charming as he was going for, “I know you told me your real name last night, but I’ve just been thinking of you as Biceps and I’ll probably need to introduce you, so...”

Biceps laughed, then flexed his arm. “I guess they’re my main distinguishing feature,” he said and, wow, they looked even better in the warm light of day. It took Bucky a couple of moments to tear his eyes away and look back at Biceps’s face instead. “My name’s Clint.”

“Hi Clint,” said Bucky. “Nice to meet you.”

Clint winked at him. “You definitely thought so last night.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. Why bother lying? “Let me get you a shirt and a towel,” he said, draining the last of his coffee and standing up. He took the opportunity to stretch, and when he glanced back, Clint’s eyes were glued firmly to his ass.

Well, okay then.

****

Mom had put out the nice china in the dining room for breakfast and was squeezing oranges for juice like that was a thing they did every day. Bucky hesitated in the doorway, wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be better to just gently tell her the truth rather than expose Clint to all this, but it was too late.

“Oh, boys!” she said, beaming as she caught sight of them. “Perfect timing, George is just finishing the pancakes.”

“It smells lovely, ma’am,” said Clint and, wow, Bucky would not have thought that polite tone could come out of his mouth after the utter filth he’d moaned in Bucky’s ear last night. He was looking a lot more respectable as well, wearing one of Bucky’s henleys. Or he would have been if it wasn’t stretched over every muscle like a second skin. Bucky caught his mom’s eyes lingering on his shoulders for a moment, which was not something he’d wanted to know he had in common with her.

“Oh please, call me Winnie,” said Mom, holding her hand out, and Bucky belatedly realised he was falling down on the job of fake-boyfriend.

“This is Clint, Mom,” he said. He hesitated, wondering if he should be adding more than that, but he didn’t know anything about the guy except what had been on his Grindr profile, and he’d mainly been looking at the photos and then skimming to make sure he wasn’t a complete freak but not really taking anything in.

Oh wait, no, he did remember something.

“He’s an archer.”

Clint darted a surprised look at Bucky as if he hadn’t expected him to know that, but the shirtless photo of him pulling back a bow, every muscle in his back standing out, had made quite an impression on Bucky.

“Oh, lovely!” said Mom, reaching out to take Clint’s hand. “That’s so unusual! How did you meet Bucky?”

“Through Steve,” said Bucky quickly, because these days, he didn’t meet anyone any other way. Either Steve was forcing him into being sociable while he sat in the corner glaring, or he was at home, pretending he liked hanging out every night with his parents. Or he was skimming through Grindr, of course, but that wasn’t going to come up over breakfast. Or ever, if he had his way. “We met at Tony’s last month.”

He’d been at Tony’s less than half an hour before it had all got too much and he’d had to duck out, but she didn’t know that. Bucky had spent a couple of hours in the park, killing time so it would look like he’d actually stayed long enough to talk to some people.

“It was quite a night,” agreed Clint, glancing at Bucky and, wow, he actually managed to make it look like he was smitten, giving him a besotted little smile. Bucky smiled back, hoping like hell he was being at least kinda believable.

“And already staying over,” said Mom, beaming at them. “You must have made quite an impression!”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Guess so,” he said, because all he could think about was the impression Clint’s cock had left on him which, wow, he was going to remember that for quite a while. 

“It has been a bit of a whirlwind,” agreed Clint with a grin.

They were saved from further interrogation by Dad coming in with the pancakes, and Bucky took his chance to get Clint settled at the table, as far from his parents as he could get.

Given there were only four of them around the table it wasn’t the greatest tactical move in history, but it was all he could do just now. He wondered how quickly they could both eat pancakes before Clint ‘had to leave’. Maybe they should have arranged a call from one of Clint’s friends to get him out of there quicker or something.

“So, Clint,” said Dad once they’d all started filling their plates with pancakes. “What is it that you do?”

“He’s an archer,” said Mom, beaming down the table at Clint. “They’re both into shooting, honey, isn’t that nice?”

Bucky couldn’t hold in a wince, because he hadn’t picked up a gun since he’d lost his arm, and there was no way in hell he’d ever be able to pick up a bow, even with the prosthetic Tony was sorting out for him.

Clint glanced at him and cleared his throat. “I actually own an archery range,” he said. “Just a small one, but we do a few classes, have a few open sessions, that kinda thing.”

“Ah, a business owner!” said Dad, beaming at him. “That’s excellent.” He gave Mom a very unsubtle look of approval and Bucky just wanted to burrow into the floor to get away.

God, at least this experience was making sure he knew not to bring an actual boyfriend home until they’d been dating at least a year and he’d had time to fully prepare the poor guy.

“How was your night?” he asked in some desperation, trying to end the tide of questions. “Chris and Judy doing okay?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” said Mom, not looking away from Clint. “So, Clint, did you grow up in Brooklyn?”

Why the hell did Bucky feel like they were working down some pre-prepared list of questions? Shit, had they whipped that up this morning, or did they just have a ‘list of questions to ask Bucky’s boyfriends’ tacked up somewhere?

“No, I’ve only been here a few years,” said Clint. “I’m from Iowa originally, but I’ve moved around a lot.” He nudged Bucky and gave the coffee pot an unsubtle look. Bucky passed it over and was rewarded with another of those beautiful grins. Damn, what else could he pass him to get another of those?

“Is that where your family is?” asked Mom, and if Bucky hadn’t been looking straight at Clint as she said it, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the micro-second flinch, or the way it was immediately covered over.

“No,” he said quietly. “My parents died when I was a kid.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Mom. “Oh sweetheart, that must have been so hard.”

It was very clear from Clint’s face that he didn’t want to talk about it, and Bucky knew from experience that sometimes Mom got too involved in trying to be sympathetic and ended up just digging right into a bunch of stuff you never wanted to think about ever again.

“Hey, Dad, did you put cinnamon in these?” he asked, which was probably a little obvious as a distraction, but it worked. Dad could talk about his experiments in making pancakes for hours. 

“Just a smidge, and also a pinch of nutmeg,” said Dad, and Bucky saw Mom bracing herself for the ramble. “I find the combination…”

Bucky stopped listening and took advantage of the break to gently pat Clint’s hand, wondering how to steer his parents away from any other questions.

Clint glanced at him with a smile, then turned his hand over to hold Bucky’s for a second, squeezing tight before pulling away and turning his attention back to his breakfast. The tiny gesture sent a shiver all long Bucky’s skin and he had to stare down at his own plate for a moment to gather himself. Shit, it turned out his hands had just as much effect on Bucky in the light of day as they did last night.

Yeah, Bucky should not be thinking about the previous night while sitting at the table with his parents, especially not the way Clint’s hands had moved over his skin, seeming to know exactly where to touch him to amp up his arousal.

“Do you do much cooking, Clint?” asked Mom, as soon as there was a pause in Dad’s monologue. Great, apparently they hadn’t escaped the interrogation phase of the conversation.

“Not really,” said Clint. “I’m pretty good at ordering pizza though.”

“Well, that’s okay. Bucky cooks pretty well,” said Dad. “Tell you what, son, I’ll write down the recipe for my pancakes for when you move out.”

“Yeah,” said Bucky, thinking about just how cagey the VA was being about when he’d start getting his housing benefits through, how little it was likely to be, and how much an apartment was in Brooklyn these days. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Do you have your own place, Clint?” asked Dad and, Jesus, they must be on to the second page of interrogation questions by now.

“Yeah, I’ve got an apartment above the range,” said Clint. “Makes my commute nice and quick.”

“Is that where you were last weekend?” Mom asked Bucky, tipping a wink. “It’s okay, sweetie, you can tell us.”

“Ah,” said Bucky, slowly. Last weekend he’d been at Steve’s, having a panic attack that had left him so exhausted that he’d just crashed there.

“That’s right, Winnie,” said Clint cheerfully. “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to give him a breakfast even half as nice as this one though.”

Okay, apparently they were committing to the lie. Bucky cast around for a way to sell it, running back over what little he knew about Clint so far. “Don’t know what you mean,” he said. “Cold pizza is the food of the gods.”

Clint sent him a faintly startled look, then another of those blinding grins, topped with a half-laugh. “It does work pretty well for breakfast in bed,” he said. “Easy to prepare.”

“And you can eat it with one hand,” agreed Bucky, and it was only after he’d seen Clint raise his eyebrows and then start sniggering that he realised how that sounded. “Because I only have one hand, idiot,” he hissed, smacking his arm lightly.

“Sure, sure,” said Clint, snorting with laughter. “Not at all cuz my other one would be busy.”

The problem was that Bucky could actually picture Clint, stark naked and crouching over him with a slice of pizza in one hand while the other was wrapped around Bucky’s cock. He started laughing as well, leaning in towards Clint as they both lost it.

“Oh dear,” said Mom, trying to sound disapproving but clearly also amused.

“It’s good to hear you laugh like that,” said Dad as Bucky caught his breath. He looked back at him to find him giving them both a satisfied look. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes,” agreed Mom. “Clint, as far as I’m concerned, any man who can make my son laugh like that is a keeper. I hope we get to see much more of you.”

“Me too,” said Clint, glancing at Bucky with a happy smile that Bucky couldn’t help but return, even if he knew that this was all a show and as soon as the meal was over, he wasn’t going to see Clint again.

And he was really beginning to realise that he did want to see him again, and not just because last night had been a truly epic fuck. He wanted to see if he could get him to laugh like that again, maybe go to his range and watch him shoot, introduce him to Steve and watch Steve realise he wasn’t the tallest blond in the room anymore and try not to be huffy about it.

Bucky put his hand over Clint’s and gave it another squeeze. “Guess we’re not gonna murder you yet,” he said, rather than dwell on any of that.

Clint snorted a laugh, then turned back to the remains of his pancakes.

“So, Clint,” asked Dad in a falsely hearty tone, “do you do much fishing?”

Clint looked completely caught out. “Ah…” he said, clearly wondering what the correct answer was.

Bucky groaned, because this one at least he knew how to knock back. “Oh my god, Dad, no one wants to go fishing with you, just stop.”

Dad sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe Becca will find herself a fishing man,” he said, sadly.

As far as Bucky knew, his sister’s one stipulation for the men she dated was that they didn’t fish, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Clint finished his last bite of pancakes, then turned a charming smile on Bucky’s parents. “Thanks so much for breakfast, that was great.”

“Oh, no problem at all,” said Mom. “You’re welcome any time.” She gave Bucky a pointed look. “Although, some notice so I don't come walking in on you again might be nice.”

Bucky shrugged awkwardly. “That wasn’t planned,” he muttered. “We fell asleep by accident.”

“And you slept right through the night?” asked Mom, looking surprised, and Bucky realised he had.

Last night he’d slept for a full nine hours without nightmares or panic attacks or any of the other nasty shit that had destroyed his sleep since he’d got back. “Yeah,” he said softly, glancing at Clint again. “Guess so.”

Clint smiled at him but he clearly didn’t get the significance of that. Instead, he pulled out his phone and looked at it, then started to get up. “I’m going to have to go, I’m afraid. I’m teaching a class in a bit.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” said Mom, standing up as well. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Clint.”

“Yes, definitely,” said Dad, also standing up and, shit, were they intending to walk Clint to the door? No way.

Bucky stood up quickly, sliding an arm around Clint’s waist. “Let me walk you out,” he said, sinking his hand into Clint’s back pocket. Wow, how had he already forgotten just how great his ass felt?

“Goodbye, Winnie, George,” said Clint with a smile, ducking his head. “Thanks again.”

Bucky pulled him out of the room and to the front of the house quickly enough that his parents were left calling their goodbyes after them.

“Eager to get rid of me?” asked Clint, sounding amused.

“Eager to stop the interrogation,” said Bucky. “I am so sorry about that, I wouldn’t have let you stay if I’d known they’d be like that.”

Clint shrugged. “It’s fine, it’s nice that they care so much.” They got to the front door and paused, Clint turning into Bucky’s arm and smiling down at him. “You’re lucky to have parents like that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky, a little too dazzled by how close Clint’s face was to really pay attention to what he was saying. “They’ve been great since I got back home. I just could do with feeling a little less like a High School kid bringing back his first boyfriend, you know?”

“Frankly, I’m just glad I didn’t end up on a fishing trip with your dad,” said Clint and Bucky let out a groan, tipping forward to rest his forehead on Clint’s shoulder.

“He asks everyone that,” he said. “He’s desperate for a fishing buddy.”

It was only after he’d done it that he realised how close he and Clint were, arms around each other and Bucky resting against Clint.

Shit. They weren’t actually boyfriends and the charade should have stopped as soon as they’d left the dining room.

“Sorry,” he muttered, letting go of Clint and stepping away. He ran a hand through his hair. “Guess I’m getting a bit carried away with all this.”

“Yeah,” said Clint, then he hesitated, glancing back towards the dining room before lowering his voice. “Listen, you can tell me to fuck off if you want, I know this isn’t what most people want from a Grindr meet-up, but I had a good time this morning, and a better time last night, and if you wanted to meet up again some time, I’d be up for it. You said you wanted to help out with the supplies for Kate’s friends, we could pick it up together, and get our own pizza at the same time? Go back to mine and have it cold the next morning?”

Bucky couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across his face. “I’d love that,” he said, feeling the fizzing glee in his stomach that apparently he wasn’t alone with wanting this to have a sequel. “I’ll need to get my shirt back, after all.”

Clint grinned. “Exactly,” he said. “And I can absolutely promise that you won’t get an interrogation over breakfast.” He hesitated, then shrugged a shoulder. “You might get one from Kate, she’s thinks all my dates are disasters in the making, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Can’t wait,” said Bucky, then took the chance to do what he’d been wanting to do since shortly after he’d woken up that morning, and leaned in to kiss Clint. 

Clint met him halfway, running his hand around Bucky’s neck as they pressed their lips together, and it wasn’t the kind of filthy kiss that they’d shared last night. It was soft and more gentle than Bucky had been expecting, speaking of far more between them than mutual lust.

Maybe Mom had been right. Maybe he wasn’t the kind of guy who did anonymous hook ups.


End file.
